THE SAME OLD ROUND.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3153, 5 August 1881, Page 4

THE SAME OLD ROUND.

' Could I see the editor ?' she aslced, looking around for him, and wondering what was going on under his table. ' J*h ! yes, I'm him,' responded the editor, evolving himself, and slipping a cork into 'lis vest pocket. ' What can Ido for you ?' 'lama student at Packer , responded the blushing damsel, " and I have written alittle'article on ' Our School "Days," which I would like to have published in t-hp Brooklyn Eagle, if you think it good enough.' 'Certainly,' replied the editor, gazing in unconscious admiration upon the beautiful face before him. ' Does it commence ' Our school days! how the words linger in sweet cadences on thofstringa of memory!" Is that the way it runs ?' 1 Why, yes,' responded the beaming girl. ' Then it goes on—" How we look forward from them to the time when we shall look back to them !" How did you know ?' ' Nover mind,' said the editor, with the engaging smile which has endeared him to the citizens of Brooklyn. ' After that comes, "So sunshiny! So gilded with the pleasures that make youth happy, they have flown into the immutable past, and come to us in after life only as echoes in the caves of sweet recollection." Isn't that it ?' 'It certainly is, , answered the astonished girl, radiant with delight. ' How could you know what I had written ? ' ' Then it changes from the pianissimo and becomes more tender: " The shadows gather around our path. The roses of friendship are withered, but may we not hope that they svill bloom again as we remember the affection that bound us here and made " ' No, you're wrong there,' and the soft eyes looked disappointed. 'Is it " Hope on, hope ever ? " asked the editor.' ' That comes in further on. You had it nearly right. It is ' The sun shadows close around us. The flowers of friendship are sleeping, but not withered, and will bloom again in the affectionate remembrance of the chains that bound us so lightly.' ' Strauge that I should have made that mistake,' said the editor, musingly. 'I never missed on one before. From there it goes, ' Schoolmates, let us live so that all our days shall be as radiant as those we have known here, and may we pluck happiness from every bush, forgetting never that the thorns are below the roses, and pitying those whose hands are bruised in the inarch through life. , 4 That's it,' exclaimed the delighted girl, ' And then comes, ' Hope on, hope ever.' ' Sure's you're born !' cried the editor, blushing with pleasure, once more on the right track. " Then it runs, ' And as for you teachers dear!' "

' Yes, yes, your right,' giggled the girl. * I can't see how you found me out! Would you like to print it!' and her face assumed an anxious shade.

' Certainly,' responded the editor. ' I'll say its by the most promising young lady in Brooklyn, the daughter of an esteemed ■itizen, and a lady who has already taken a high social rank!' ' That finishes the school commencement at one swoop,' sighed the editor gloomily, as the fair vision floated out. ' Can't see how T made that blunder about the shadows and •o*es and friendship. Either I'm getting Id or some of these girls have struck out •omefcliing original. Here, Swipes, tell the foreman to put tins slush in the next tax '•iles supplement.' And the editor felt in his hair for the cork, and wondered what had happened to his memory.—Brooklyn Eagle.